Chapter 27 - The Talk
About ten city blocks away from St. Mungo's, Ritchie was in his midnight blue 2002 Saab on a stakeout. A cigarette butt flew out of his window, joining the earlier ones that met the same fate on the sidewalk. He needed a new car ashtray. Terrible habit, as Jane suggested when she got rid of his old one, but today was definitely a good day to have a relapse. He needed a relapse. As he lit another one, he said to himself, "I'll quit tomorrow."
He was parked across the street from the London address which housed the charity named as Gomez' pension beneficiary and was keeping an eye on the entrance of the building. All was quiet. Nothing exciting. Beside him on the passenger's seat was a two-inch thick file on the charity that one of the assistants at the Yard had dug up for him on short notice.
On paper, the Saint Lamb Homes Foundation was not unlike any other Muggle charity. It came into existence in June 1995 and according to the foundation brochure, was named after an outstanding foster parent, Theresa 'Lamb' Lane, whose picture was in the file along with a biography. Its main purpose was to assist foster children financially and it was not surprising that Gomez would support such a cause. There was a long list of beneficiaries over the past years and it would take time to go through all the records. He checked quickly. For sure, there was no Didler or Riddle on file.
He called the Yard, "It's Tilly. Run a name for me. Theresa Lane. Call me back. Thanks."
Ritchie went back to his reading. Not surprisingly, the foundation's main contributor on record was Gomez' Muggle alter ego, Goodrich, but as he went down the list of donors, one other name caught his attention. Albus Dumbledore. The former Hogwarts Headmaster had been a supporter and at the time of his death, a handsome amount of money was donated in his name to the charity. Jane should see this, he thought as he marked the spot where the donor list was in the file. She might find more familiar names.
Ritchie was worried about her, particularly after meeting briefly with Harry and Tonks about the Ministry for Magic knowing where she was. Like Harry, he had been trying to get in touch with her, to tell her that the portraits had surfaced and that armed law enforcers were on their way to join their magical counterparts.
As much as he hated to admit it, he trusted Harry. He had to trust Harry. Harry would be with her by now and he would make sure she was going to be fine.
He wanted to be more useful but he was told (ordered) not to come anywhere near the University campus. The Chief, rightfully so, had taken him off the Muggle stabbing case when the portraits of Jane surfaced. Someone pointed out the authorization logs for the case and the Chief found out that Jane had been looking at their evidence with Ritchie's approval. That and the powerful water cooler conversations about his 'closer' relationship with her left the Chief no choice.
This was both good and bad; bad because he was no longer in the loop but good because he now had more time in his hands. Time. He looked at his watch and the piece of paper on which Harry had written his home address. He did not want to be late for the meeting, if it was going to happen at all. Harry's place was way across town.
He turned the ignition on with his bandaged right hand, put his car in gear and drove away, but not before another butt found its rightful place on the sidewalk. Thinking how much more time he would have had staking the place out had he not needed to cut across town, he cursed. This Apparition thing, he opined, was a definite wizard perk he wished he had.
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Barely a minute later, a faint pop of a well-performed Apparition broke the silence in the neighbourhood. Gomez noticed in disgust that someone had thought it appropriate to throw cigarette butts on the sidewalk. He crossed the street and entered the premises of the Foundation. The lights on the 1st level offices came on.
He conjured himself a drink and sat on the big leather couch, very stressed. Granger kept on proving she was a formidable adversary. The Dementors stormed an empty Bookstore a few minutes ago and were now scouring the University Campus. There was a good possibility that she would, yet again, evade captivity. This impending set back was actually truly the least of his worries.
Gomez was well aware that the Cardinal was interested in talking with him. The feeling was not mutual. This was the reason why Gomez had not gone home to his house. Why was it taking so long for the Aurors to act on the evidence he gave Shacklebolt? Granted that for appearances sake, he did not want to seem too obvious so as to put the actual folder on Shacklebolt's lap, open it to the page, and highlight the line to him, did his staff need more clues?
His excuse would be fear. He helped the Cardinal out of fear. That wouldn't be a stretch, not at all; especially not right now. Everyone who knew the Cardinal's roots, except for Gomez, was dead. Elise Kline, Voldemort, Quirinus Quirrel, Albus Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge, the latter being the only one who passed on due to natural causes. There was compelling reason that unless someone could help, he was not going to remain an exception much longer.
Elise Kline conceived Didler through the Muggle method of artificial insemination a little over a year after Voldemort gave Harry Potter his famous scar. Kline was a young foolish fanatic ensnared by Voldemort's charisma and blinded to his evil. Gomez suspected that the kind-hearted healer loved Voldemort, adored Voldemort and rumours were they were physically intimate. But deception played a role in procuring a biological specimen without his knowledge, freezing it for future use. That deception cost Kline her life and because of it, their offspring was subjected to a childhood of orphanages and foster care.
Gomez first became privy to this secret when as an undersecretary to Cornelius Fudge, his own childhood and his charity work made him the ideal person to entrust such an important assignment. The first time he laid eyes on Didler, the child was but 11 years old, attending Hogwarts under an alias. Whether or not Voldemort was back following the Triwizard Tournament was the heated topic of the week, and Albus Dumbledore met with Cornelius Fudge, set their differences aside, to ensure the child was going to be safe.
Didler was itself an alias; Kline's idea to shield her child from harm. However, upon acceptance into Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore felt this was not going to be good enough and since then, the Cardinal had used the same name as one of Kline's ancestors, St. Mungo. That would give the child a sense of pride, honour and history, even if in secrecy.
He was tasked to help the child along, to protect and to hide from Voldemort. He succeeded in his task. And he had witnessed first hand how the shy and timid eleven year old he met years ago outside the Minister for Magic's office grew up, confident and outgoing with a most promising future within the Ministry itself.
That was until the he needed Didler to be the Enabled that was required for the completion of his plan and his quest to be Minister for Magic. That was until out of filial duty, Didler obliged. And now, his immediate pursuit was no longer to become Minister of anything; it was to have a longer life.
His head spinning and his heart pounding, Gomez downed the drink as quickly as his anatomy would allow it. Refilling his glass, he closed his eyes and hoped the Aurors would find the Cardinal before the Cardinal found him.
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Back at St. Mungo's, the Healer's recognition of the Cardinal was unexpected and it brought about an unexpected response. A few moments ago, had somebody looked up from the street, they would have noticed green light flashing through Ron Weasley's fourth floor room windows. And what was most unexpected was that the Cardinal did not use any of Granger's curses. Unexpected for the Cardinal, who swore never to become the common murderer that Voldemort was.
Suspecting that the meeting would not likely start on time or may not happen at all, the Cardinal Disapparated from St. Mungo's. In a split second, cigarette butts on the sidewalk came into view. There was time for a quick stopover to visit family.
And as the Cardinal entered the edifice across the way, a midnight blue 2002 Saab parked unnoticed half a block down the street.
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Meanwhile, at the University, Harry and Hermione followed a footpath going deeper into the more heavily forested area of the park. Everything went pitch black. Hermione felt his hand reach for hers. Her left hand obliged, resting itself within his strong warm fingers. She could not help but remember the countless times they held hands but how this one was their first as a couple.
This isn't really the time to get all mushy. Remember. Trees, darkness, Dementors. Focus.
Harry lit his wand and they followed the path which was headed straight east. She had a moment to watch him as his eyes scoured the area for potential dangers. She understood why he and Tonks chose to come as Pink and Blue. The more memorable they were coming in, the less scrutiny there would be coming out. Judging from the lack of shadows, the ploy succeeded.
So, he had secrets, too.
"I guess that explains why no one could find you. Since when have you been able to morph?" she asked.
"Our final year at Hogwarts," he answered.
They were walking side-by-side, purposeful and hurried. They went as fast as Harry's lit wand could illuminate where they were going.
Hermione realized something, "That was why you were seeing Tonks."
"You noticed?"
"Kind of."
How could she not? Ron could attest that the most serious mood swings Hermione ever had was during that stretch of time. Hermione remembered how jealous she was of Tonks and how guilty she was feeling that way about Harry when she was still with Ron.
Harry was curious, "Why did you think I was seeing her?"
Embarrassed, she replied, "Well, you started seeing Tonks frequently at the Three Broomsticks. Ron knew you always got a room. He suggested you and Tonks were shagging behind Remus' back."
Hermione could sense Harry had an amused grin, "And you believed that?"
"Well, it was really hard not to," she answered, not expounding. That would be Ron bombarding her with observations about how exhausted Harry looked after meeting with Tonks, his disinterest in other women and his desire to keep it clandestine, even from her and Ron. Come to think of it, Ron's annotations then were typically followed by suggestions that they get a room at the Three Broomsticks as well. Good one, Ron.
"So, why wasn't I lectured about it?"
Hesitating, she explained, "I thought you were going through your older woman phase. And besides, being the adult it would have been Tonks' fault."
That and I didn't want to admit I was jealous.
Harry just laughed, "An older woman phase. Wait till Tonks hears about this."
"And Ron," she said, realizing too late that Ron may never hear about it.
Hermione quickly changed the topic, "How did the talk with Gomez go?"
"He denied everything. I think the show you put on for him as the Cardinal paid off. Soon after he left Kingsley's office, he gave us access to his confidential Ministry files. I haven't found anything yet, and though I still have a box of documents to go through, I'm beginning to think Tonks was right about it being a wild goose chase."
"Are you through his 1994 records yet?"
"Not yet. Why?"
"Neville found Didler, and he may have a list of suspects for us to look at tomorrow. In July 1994 Didler received financial support from Hogwarts, probably as a first year. Since there are no other Hogwarts records bearing that name, the alias likely came soon after. I'm hoping Gomez knows Didler from doing Ministry business. Look for anything even vaguely connected to Hogwarts."
"I'll look more closely," Harry replied. "How's Dean?"
"Hanging in there. You're fine with him coming over to your place to see the twins, right?"
"Of course, and he can stay. Why the rush to get him out?"
Hermione listened carefully but did not detect any hint of negativity, "The appointment book. I just had a bad feeling when Ritchie said he could not find it. Dean is a lose end for both, and he's seen the Cardinal many times."
"Have you tried to look into his mind?"
"I did, briefly, but we're going to need more time. His head is a mess, particularly now because there is also the uncertainty with Ginny,"
Talking about Dean brought her back to their argument over the phone.
"Listen, I am sorry about this morning," Hermione apologized. "The amnesiac incident with Dean, I wasn't sore at you. I was irate at myself for taking the potion."
"It was terrible of me to imply it last night. And maybe you didn't take the potion," Harry was hopeful, but there was no sense giving him false optimism.
"I did," she was positive. She saw his memory herself, and filled the gap that was in hers perfectly. "You had a point last night."
"I wasn't making a point last night," he reminded her.
"Harry?" Hermione paused, wanting to ask him how he felt about the possibility that she may have taken potions to forget some memories in her past.
"Yeah?"
They were still moving east, deeper into the city park.
"How do you really feel about it?"
"About Dean or about you possibly taking amnesiacs?
"About both."
It took seemingly forever for Harry to say anything and that, in itself, said a lot.
"It's not a trick question, Harry. There are no wrong answers." Only ones that hurt.
He was still unsure, "I don't know. I haven't really had time to think about it."
Like that one. If she wanted to know what he thought she would have asked what he thought. Of course he knew how he felt, but probably thought it was too undesirable to share with her. She felt a slight twinge in her chest. It was not quite the answer from him she was hoping for.
"Can I ask you a question?" his turn.
"About?"
"This job, the course you've signed up for in the fall, the Muggle life you've been living, what is this all about?"
Her heart skipped a beat. Hermione knew this conversation was going to happen.
The Tunnel, Dementors, wands and guns. Priorities. You can talk later. Whenever you play this in your head, it always ends in a bitter argument; now is the worse time to have one.
Hermione ignored her voice of reason.
"I was leaving the Ministry, a career change,"
"You could have worked anywhere else in the Magical community."
"I chose not to."
"Did Ritchie ask you?"
"It was my idea."
"I see."
That's two.
"Can I ask you another question?"
"Uh-huh."
Really, this is not the moment to talk about this! Tell him you'll talk later. You may be buying time but you're insulting his intelligence.
"About Ritchie."
Horses were racing in her chest.
"What about him?"
"He does know you used magic to escape and to help Dean escape, right?"
"He's not stupid, if that's what you're asking."
"So, he's not totally against you doing magic."
"He never was."
"I see."
Three and on a roll. Perhaps you should stop the bleeding. Either talk to him later or stop dancing around his questions. He knows what you're trying to do.
Fine. You win.
"Harry…"
"Can I…"
They said simultaneously and stopped abruptly.
"Go ahead," Harry offered.
"No, you go," she thought, why did she do that?
Hermione was sure they were getting close to walking the half- mile. Harry stopped and turned around to face her. Maybe she should suggest that they keep walking in the general direction they were on.
The singular beam of light coming from Harry's wand illuminated their expressions. She saw him contort his face and transform back to himself right before her very eyes. He had this grave expression that she had never seen before. About the suggestion to keep on walking - maybe not quite yet.
"Why have you been avoiding Ginny?"
Finally, Harry asked a question that she couldn't work with. Shit. Oh, sorry.
"It wasn't because of Dean."
"Of course it wasn't. And from the sound of it you're not going to tell me what that was about, either," Harry was starting to show frustration.
That's four. Three would have been truly better. You've done quite enough so please, shut up now.
"We used to be able to talk about almost anything."
"We stopped doing that a long time ago," she replied, thinking it happened when she first realized he was physically attractive and couldn't/wouldn't do anything about it. Talking sure was better until then, when breathing around him wasn't a problem.
"I miss that. I wish we had that back," Harry paused and moved closer, looked into her soul, "I can continue to pretend I don't notice that you have been skirting around the answers to my questions all night, if that will make you feel better. Though I would rather you come clean and stop making me feel stupid."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to feel that way. But I haven't lied to you." I will not lie to you.
"Oh, I don't doubt that. But you have not been up-front either. Are our talks always going to feel like interrogations? Tell me. What happened that was so horrible that you can't trust me with it?"
"You know I trust you with my life, Harry. This is not about trust. It happened and it's over with and it has nothing to do with us now. I just can't talk about it, not with you."
"Will you tell me eventually?"
She shook her head, "That's all I ask; that you and I don't ever talk about it."
"I don't even know what it is that we're not supposed to talk about," Harry was frustrated that she chose to do this. "It doesn't have to be this way."
It has to be, for me.
Does it really? Can you not meet him halfway and consider telling him eventually?
Hermione was wavering. She understood his dissatisfaction. Maybe it was too much to expect him to take that leap forever. Maybe she could meet him halfway. Maybe.
Ask him the questions.
"Harry, I need to know, before we go any further. If we were to stay together, can you live with this? Can you live with not knowing that part of my life? And can you live with the possibility that I may have taken the amnesiac countless times before and not be able to remember anything?"
She paused, deliberating whether she would say the next thought that was hanging around in her mind. She realized that to be forthright, she had to.
"If you can't, it would be best to end this now."
With every passing second, she felt a blunt knife slice and dice her heart into tiny cubes and the cut pieces seared in a hot pan. It was simple, really. Either he was fine with it, or he was not. And if he could not decide between the two immediately, then he obviously was not. She had to look away from his heartbreaking confused stare, not wanting to cry, not now, not yet, not in front of him. She couldn't hang on to wait for an answer that may never come.
"Let me know when you decide," she said as she turned to the path, though she already had his answer. She had to get away from him. She lit her wand and was almost running eastward.
Harry caught up with her and blocked her path, forcing her to talk to him.
"Tell me again how you feel about me."
"You know how I feel about you," how could he not know? Don't cry, not now.
"I need to hear you say it in no uncertain words. What you said this morning; tell me what that means. I don't want to have to draw any conclusions, not like today."
She understood what he meant about today; the fight, the phones and not having had the opportunity to talk about Ritchie. But this was not how she thought it would be the first time. She wanted the first time she told him the words he wanted to hear to be a special moment; a spontaneous, unrushed, not-worried-about-Dementors moment. Being coerced into saying it was definitely not on her list of qualified moments.
Harry felt her hesitation and he pulled back, "Or is this one of the questions you'd rather not answer because you don't want to lie to me? Do you think me so fragile that I can't take the truth?"
What? Before she could reply, Hermione's phone rang. That meant they were outside they catchment area. Ritchie. It was not the best time to be taking a call from him.
She was about to answer the phone to tell Ritchie she was busy, when Harry summoned it. He had this fierce, angry expression that she dared not mess with.
He said to Ritchie briskly, "We're in the middle of something. I'll have her call you back." He put her phone in his pocket.
She guessed this would be a bad time to suggest Disapparating to a more safe location. She shivered. Was it getting colder?
Harry continued, noticeably very upset, "It has been terribly frustrating that the only times I've been able to get a hold of you or find out about you this afternoon was through Ritchie. You dragged him into our conversation about the amnesiac, and you went to him to plan and execute Dean's escape. It seems obvious that he's still in your life!"
"Because he is! In case you didn't notice, we are working on this case together! And if he chooses to, he is welcome to stay in my life as long as he wants!"
"I can't believe you expect me to be okay with that!"
She was disappointed he could think she would string them both along.
"There is no reason for you to be jealous! Ritchie and I are done, Harry! We broke up!"
Harry seemed to have calmed down after hearing what she just said. Hermione briefly noticed that their wand lights were becoming dimmer. Or was it becoming darker?
"Tell me about him. Tell me about Ritchie."
"I don't know where to start. What do you want to know?"
"What is he to you?"
"He's a friend. He's a close friend and he was there during the toughest time of my life."
"Yeah, I know. The worst time of your life that you won't tell me about."
"I was in a bad way and he helped me overcome it. I owe him my life, Harry."
She was sure it did not escape Harry that she owed him her life, too, many times over.
"You were leaving your work, your friends and not using magic to have a normal Muggle life with him, even if he never asked for that."
"You're right, He never asked me for anything."
Not even my love, which I wanted to but could never give.
"You obviously care a lot about him."
She nodded, "I do."
"He's fine with your past."
"Yes, he is."
He can look past all that.
"He's perfect."
"Not perfect but close enough."
"You're better off staying with him."
"And I would have stayed with him if you stayed away," she felt warm because of their discussion but noticed white mist form as the words escaped Harry's quivering mouth. What was he trying to say? Was he telling her to stay with Ritchie?
Hermione remembered what he wrote her two years ago. I wish you and Ron all the best. At least now, he was telling her personally. You're better off staying with him. He had decided. He didn't want her with her baggage like he didn't want to stay two years ago to deal with Ron and his guilt. He loved her, but not enough to fight for her and not enough to look past impediments in the way of their being together.
She was getting used to that gnawing ache and it really didn't hurt that bad, at least not anymore.
"You're not making sense!" Harry was upset. "Why are you throwing away your relationship with the perfect guy for someone you can't even share your past with? Why leave him to be with me?"
Hermione thought the answer was so obvious, "Because I …"
"Watch out!!!"
Harry pulled her towards him and shielded her from an oncoming attack. Only then did she appreciate just how cold and dark it was around them. Dementors. She could smell putrid foul smelling breath very close by. They had to get away. But she didn't want to Disapparate without making sure they were out of the catchment area. Harry had her phone and he just went off to challenge a group of Dementors.
She whirred around to get a sense of what they had to deal with. There were numerous, too many to count. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him fight off a couple of Dementors with his Patronus. Several black hooded gliding figures were approaching and blocked him off from her view. It wasn't meant to be.
Hermione concentrated on the memory she had decided on; Harry at St. Mungo's, using his wand to talk with him. The memory that a few short minutes ago was sure to lift her spirits up, now reduced to nothing out of the ordinary. Why did she pick a memory that could go either way?
"Expecto Patronum!"
A small wisp of light emanated from the tip of her wand and quickly dissipated.
The memory of her parents' funeral filled her with sadness almost instantaneously, weakening her considerably. Unedited thoughts fleeted into her consciousness. It was better then, believing that you didn't care about me at all; it's worse now knowing that you do love me but not enough.
"Expecto Patron..nu…," she tried again, her voice less confident. An even feebler spark came from her wand.
Harry's farewell letter from two years ago and the horrible emotions as she read it resurfaced. It was followed by snippets of what she endured the past six months. She half expected it would happen once more, if she ever survived tonight. It could be a blessing if she didn't. She did not want to go through that again.
Her legs gave way and she fell on her back, feeling the cool moist earth where her skin touched ground. She was so cold and the dark figures around her were all a blur. Numb all over, her wand must have slipped off her fingers.
Was this it? After years of fighting against the most evil wizard and escaping death so many times, was she going to die in a cold dark forest after all? She was fine with that. There was really nothing left for her to stay in this life anymore. She was on to the next big adventure…hopefully one with a more cheerful ending.
Hermione wanted to see Harry one last time. She had to tell him what she was about to say before they were interrupted. She tried to turn her head to where she last saw him. There was just darkness, of varying degrees, fading in and out. She wished fervently that he was okay. She opened her mouth to call out but no voice escaped her lips.
With all the strength she could muster and knowing fully well that he was not going to hear it, she imagined a perfect moment. No, she was not going to be rushed by the fact that she was about to lose consciousness. If she was going to do this only once she was going to do this right.
She closed her eyes and played out her memory, the one of their night two years ago. In her living room, warmly lit by the fireplace, with Harry. They had just said it would be one night. And it would be.
He said, his green eyes ablaze with passion and longing for her, "I love you."
Holding that thought, she used Legiventroliqy to send to his image what she wanted to let him know, "I love you, Harry. And I always will."
She was done.
There was a shiny silvery light at the end of a cave of darkness she was in and Hermione felt herself float towards it. She never looked back, not having any reason to.
Then there was absolute darkness.